


bury it and rise above

by memorysdaughter



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Love, Major Illness, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patterson and Jane are stuck in an elevator during a storm.  Patterson says something Jane hadn't realized she was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bury it and rise above

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Blindspot Hiatus Project's weekly fanfiction theme prompt: stuck in a closed space.
> 
> It vaguely ties into "language of love" but can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> This piece and "language of love" both tie into a massive Jane/Patterson project I'm working on that will be posted later this year.
> 
> Title comes from the song "Bury It" by CHVRCHES ft. Hayley Williams.

Jane’s still not used to taking Patterson out of the house by herself.  Not that they haven’t done it thousands of times, but now, after Patterson’s lived through a ten-minute seizure and a twelve-day coma, Jane’s more attuned to the types of things that could go wrong.  Every single moment has to be planned out in excruciating detail and every single contingency has to be handled.  How long are they going to be out of the house?  Does it fall on or around a meal time?  What are they going to be doing?  How far from the house are they going?

And it doesn’t help that she can’t share her worries with Patterson.  Or, rather, she can, but she has no idea how much is getting through.  All of the various doctors claim Patterson’s still in there, but Jane has her doubts.  They’ve been home two weeks, and so far Patterson hasn’t shown a single sign of her former personality.  Most of the time Jane finds her precisely where she’d been left - sitting in her wheelchair or on the couch or on the bed, staring at whatever’s in front of her.  Jane tries to keep her “entertained,” but she’s unsure if Patterson’s bored at all, if there’s enough of the “old Patterson” in there to feel boredom.  After all, Jane has yet to hear a single complaint, though it’s something she’d give almost anything to listen to.

Somehow she gets them to their thrice-weekly physical therapy appointments.  It isn’t easy, least of all because they live on the upper floor of a duplex, so getting them physically out of the building is a struggle in itself.  Jane’s strong enough to carry Patterson down the stairs, but she’s terrified she’ll fall and hurt Patterson (for obvious reasons) or herself (which would incapacitate her as Patterson’s caregiver).  Instead Jane carries the wheelchair down the stairs to the sidewalk, then goes back inside and gets Patterson from the chair next to the front door.  Using the gait belt around Patterson’s waist, Jane walks her to the top of the stairs and sits her down.  Once Patterson’s there, Jane moves around in front of her and gently, tugging on the belt’s handles, pulls Patterson down the stairs, as though the love of her life is a child attempting to “sled” down the steps in extreme slow-motion.

To her credit, Patterson never looks put out by any of this effort, and most days generally seems to be trying to help, even on this Wednesday morning when it’s pouring outside, storms rocking the city around them.  It seems to take longer than usual, but eventually they’re heading for the elevator, their ride up to the third floor of the medical arts building where three times a week Patterson works on standing, walking, and a variety of other tasks.

Jane hits the elevator’s call button and pushes back the hood of Patterson’s rain slicker. “Yuck,” she murmurs to Patterson, doing the same to her own jacket. “Glad we’re inside, huh?  Maybe we’ll have to go get coffee or something to reward us for actually being here on time.  Or some cupcakes.  A cupcake sounds good.”

Patterson tilts her head, considering this, and rain sluices off her slicker.  The elevator dings open and Jane begins to push the wheelchair into it, but she can’t move it forward.  Looking down, she realizes Patterson’s feet are firmly planted on the tile floor.

“Come on,” Jane says. “We have to go.  Pick your feet up.”

A soft sound escapes Patterson’s mouth.  It sounds like a blurry _no_ , formed by a mouth slackened by both brain damage and a lack of use.  Then she repeats it and it sharpens, a more definite but still fuzzy _No_.

Jane sighs. “I know your sessions aren’t fun, but once we’re done the whole day’s open.  We can do whatever you want.”

With that, she turns the chair around and pulls Patterson backwards into the elevator.  The doors slide closed as Jane hits the button marked “3,” a roll of thunder accompanying the doors’ movement.

The elevator’s notification panel shows they’re at the second floor when it suddenly jerks to a halt.  Patterson lets out a whimper.

“It’s okay,” Jane says.  She waits a few beats, in case the elevator’s stoppage turns out to be temporary, a skip between the rhythmic pulses of a machine heart somewhere in the building.  When it’s clear they’re not moving, she bends down and opens the panel containing the emergency phone, located slightly under the buttons for floor selection. “Let’s see who’s on the other end of this.”

She holds the receiver up to her ear and pushes the button to connect. “Hello?”

There’s a short pause, and then a scratchy voice answers: “Hello?”

“Uh, hi.  The elevator’s stuck.  Can you… uh… send somebody to get us out?”

“Of course, ma’am.  I’ll put in a call to our maintenance people.”

“Do you know how long that’ll take?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.  I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything.  Is anyone injured?”

Jane looks over at Patterson, who’s crying. “No, we’re all right,” she says. “Just… please hurry.  Oh, and could you call up to BodyWorks Physical Therapy and let them know their ten o’clock will be late?”

“I sure will, ma’am.”

With that the voice disappears.  Jane hangs up the phone. “They’re sending someone to help us, okay?”

Patterson just cries harder, sobs turning into choking gasps.  Helplessly Jane holds her hand and strokes her head.  She doesn’t understand why Patterson’s so distressed, and that more than anything else hurts.

“Hey, come here,” Jane says softly.  She unbuckles the seatbelt holding Patterson to the wheelchair, carefully takes off Patterson’s rain jacket, and, gripping the gait belt, pulls Patterson up to stand against her.  Somehow they maneuver to the floor, Jane holding Patterson against her, Patterson pressing her head into Jane’s chest as she sobs.

“Oh, lovely,” Jane murmurs. “I wish I knew what would help you.”

She rubs Patterson’s back and sings softly under her breath, a song she’d heard on their first date and the very first song she’d memorized - at least, the first one she can remember memorizing. _“It’s a marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…”_

She’s not sure how long she sings and Patterson cries, but eventually the only sound in the elevator is her voice. “... _can I just have one more moondance with you, my love…”_

Against her Patterson takes a shuddery deep breath and then settles.  Somehow her weight is comforting.  Jane presses a kiss into the top of her head. “I’m sorry you’re so scared.  I’m sorry you can’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Patterson’s fingers around Jane’s wrist tense and her hand jerks slightly downward until it slips back into Jane’s.  Again her fingers tense.

Jane squeezes back. “I’m here.”

Patterson sighs in what seems like contentment and she closes her eyes.

The phone rings.  Jane leans to the side and grabs the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am.” It’s a different voice. “I understand you’re stuck in the elevator.  We’re doing everything we can to get you out, but due to the storm it’s taking awhile for the maintenance crew to get here.  Are you doing all right?”

“We’re okay,” Jane says.

“All right.  We’ll call you to let you know when they’re here.”

And the voice is gone.

Jane’s not sure how long they sit on the floor of the elevator, but at some point she realizes she’s talking.  Talking to Patterson, who remains curled up in her lap, her weight warm and reassuring.  Her eyes are closed, so Jane has no idea if she’s sleeping, but over the past few weeks she’s gotten used to talking to what seems like empty space, to a Patterson physically there but mentally and emotionally unreachable. “I know this seems like hell for you, and I can’t imagine how it must be to be living through it, unable to tell anyone what’s happening to you or what you’re thinking about.  I wish you could tell me things, even if it was just to yell at me for putting you in front of a ‘Friends’ rerun marathon when there’s clearly a new ‘Frontline’ on PBS or complaining that you’ve had applesauce at lunch every damn day this week.

“I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter if you ever get anything back or not, I’m still going to love you.  I’m still going to be here.  I’ll always make sure you get dressed in the morning, even if it’s just laying-around-the-house clothes, because I know how much you hate being in your pajamas.  I don’t understand that, because my pajamas are so comfortable that I’d wear them all day, including to work, if I was able to, but I know it’s important to you.

“And I’m still going to take you to the museums and the science center, and we’ll still have milkshakes on our anniversary like we always do.  Nothing’s going to change, okay?  Please don’t ever feel like I’m going to abandon you just because you’re… not the same as you used to be, because that’s never, _ever_ going to happen.

“I’m not the same as I used to be, either, and you’re one of the reasons for that.  When I came out of that bag I was a complete blank and you helped me fill in pieces of who I am.  And now you’re… somewhat blank, and I’m going to help you get back whatever you can.  But if nothing comes back, I’m still going to be just as happy with you, just as amazed and stunned that out of all the people in all of the world you somehow wanted to be with _me_.  And we’ll just go on being awesome together.”

Patterson shifts, her eyes still closed.

“I mean, assuming we ever get out of this damn elevator,” Jane adds under her breath.

Patterson’s fingers tense around Jane’s, and her head tips back slightly.  For the first time in a very long time, her eyes meet Jane’s.

“Hi, lovely,” Jane murmurs.

One side of Patterson’s face curls up into her new version of a smile, and she breathes out what sounds like a two-syllable word.  It’s fuzzy and round and blurry, like everything she tries to say, and Jane doesn’t understand it.  Patterson’s words are like bubbles, floating from her mouth in ethereal trailing blobs, and while she looks so damn proud when she gets them out, Jane wishes she understood more of them. “Can you try again?” she asks.

The half-face smile on her face, Patterson repeats the two syllables.  This time Jane hears _ofoo_.

“Ofoo.  Of.  Oo.” Jane tries to parse it.

The half-smile gets bigger and Patterson repeats it once more, her hand squeezing Jane’s harder. “Of.  Oo.”

Then she puckers her lips, as though asking for a kiss, and pieces click into place in Jane’s mind. “ _Love you_ ,” she breathes. “Are you saying _love you?”_

Patterson just grins up at her, and Jane forgets that they’re stuck in an elevator, forgets that half of Patterson’s face still refuses to smile, forgets everything terrible that’s happened in the past weeks and months.  All she sees is gorgeous Patterson, finally getting a message across.

“Oh, lovely.  I love you too,” Jane says, and she kisses her.

Patterson sighs in contentment. “Of.  Oo.”

It takes another two hours before the maintenance crew successfully gets them out of the elevator, by which time Jane’s starving and her legs are firmly asleep, but she’s deliriously happy despite all of that.  As one of the maintenance workers scoops Patterson out of Jane’s lap, setting her back in her wheelchair, Patterson peeks over his shoulder and looks at Jane. “ _Of.  Oo,_ ” she repeats, and though her mouth goes slightly slack and her expression shifts from one of happiness to one of exhaustion and pain, she still seems peaceful and no longer quite as distant and blank as she did before.

Jane just smiles, and no matter how long the journey is, she’ll make it.  No matter how many elevators they’ll get stuck in, or how many more difficult things they’ll have to face - none of it matters.  They’re together.


End file.
